


Codename: Leather

by DoreyG



Category: Spy (2011)
Genre: Blowjobs, Community: kink_bingo, Due to a noodle incident, First Time, Frottage, Leather, Leather/Latex/Rubber, M/M, Or cut off blowjobs, Sofa!Sex, for Chris is impatient and things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-18
Updated: 2012-05-18
Packaged: 2017-11-05 13:34:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/407025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DoreyG/pseuds/DoreyG
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>“The thing is,” Chris says brightly, scratching his nails slightly and leaning in to kiss the side of his neck, “that I’ve secretly had a crush on your for, oh, </i>years<i> now. But first you were married. And then you were bitter. And then you were a spy. And then you had a crush on a spy. And then you were </i>angsting<i> about that spy-“</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Codename: Leather

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the "leather/latex/rubber" square on my Kink_Bingo, focusing on the leather. And, yes, Tim probably looks a _bit_ (a lot) ridiculous.

“Chris…! What?”

“Hush.”

“…Why are you straddling me?”

“You’re wearing leather.”

“ _What_?”

“Hush!”

And he tries to hush, he honestly does. He shifts a little on the sofa, with Chris’ hands clamping his over his head. He vaguely wonders if he can itch his nose from this position, swiftly tells himself to stop being stupid. He…

Nope, “this makes _no_ sense.”

“It does!”

“ _How_ -?”

“The thing is,” Chris says brightly, scratching his nails slightly and leaning in to kiss the side of his neck, “that I’ve secretly had a crush on your for, oh, _years_ now. But first you were married. And then you were bitter. And then you were a spy. And then you had a crush on a spy. And then you were _angsting_ about that spy-“

“…Not so much _angsting_ -“

“-And generally the situation was far from perfect pretty much all the time, and I _wanted_ it to be perfect,” Chris simply continues over him, _still_ brightly, with a bouncy little shrug, “but then the sight of you in leather triggered some deep and primal response in me and I realized that you can’t wait for the perfect moment _forever_ and can we please fuck now, _please_?”

…He blinks.

Stares up at Chris. With his attractively ruffled hair and dark eyes and bright smile and _utter_ insanity seeping out everywhere.

“Are you sure about this?” Asks, almost _pleadingly_.

“Mmhmm.”

“Absolutely?”

“Yup!”

And…

_Well_. That’s kind of a very good thing, really, because he isn’t sure how he’d cope if Chris was just doing this as a casual act of boredom that’d be forgotten the next morning as he danced off to sleep with some other guy (probably that Aeneas, his replacement at the store who is a lot prettier and a _lot_ more sarcastic and seems to delight in insulting as many customers a day as possible). The man looks a little surprised when he’s flipped over, but then he looks delighted and that’s a _lot_ more agreeable.

…Or something, “How-?”

“Spy.”

“ _Oh_ ,” a brief pause as Chris looks up at him, a touch appreciatively, “is that why you’re wearing the leather?”

“…I don’t even know anymore,” he can only sigh wearily, and lean in for a kiss that’ll _hopefully_ stem all questions about spying and leather and random clubs where everybody looked most decidedly shifty.

And, of course-

Miraculously it _does_. For Chris only hums happily, and arches up into his lips, and eases his grip on his wrists until he can slide those bony arms up to rest around his neck. As a result the kiss is hot and perfect and _extremely_ distracting for a few moments (minutes ( _possibly_ hours)) – the only things in the world Chris’ tongue against his and Chris’ nails lightly scratching over his back and his hands in Chris’ hair so thick and _tempting_.

In fact: he only realizes that there’s actually a _world_ when Chris breaks the kiss to guide his hands _away_ from that hair.

…And, even then, he only gains _full_ awareness when Chris presses that recently captured hand _down_ between his legs, “ah.”

“Yes.”

“Already?”

“I may be a thirty two year old on the outside,” Chris says, with great dignity and a certain sparkle in his eyes, “but I am constantly a horny teenager on the inside and that needs to be _satisfied_. Besides, I’ve secretly had a crush on you for around-“

“Seven years?”

“How did you guess!”

“I have superpowers,” he grumbles in reply… And shifts his hand. Feels Chris’ cock grow against his palm, _sees_ Chris’ head tilt helplessly back to expose a long and pale throat, _feels_ that lustful rumble radiate through the both of them from every place that they’re perfectly placed together.

He smiles to himself, and reaches for the catches of his suit.

“Ah, _no_ ” …Is only mildly surprised when Chris’ hand catches his wrist again, bends it back in a surprisingly firm way considering the man’s current shuddering underneath him, “keep it on.”

“But…”

“ _Pwease_?”

“Oh God,” he says, so sincerely that it almost _hurts_ in a deeply profound way, but obeys and removes his hands, “ _never_ say that again, Chris. In any situation. Even if aliens are threatening to blow up the planet and the only way you can save the world is by repeating that word.”

“…Oddly specific.”

“ _Never_.”

Chris only smirks up at him, a touch fondly. Lets him shudder over that for a few long, _cruel_ , moments before daring to speak again.

“I can still get naked, though.”

“Can you?”

“I’m practically _skilled_ at it.”

And, as if to prove his point, the man awkwardly wriggles up to a sitting position (so fast that it _almost_ breaks his nose). Draws his shirt over his head and beams brightly at the result… Which is, of course, him half naked. With peaked nipples (since this is pretty much the coldest May _ever_ ) and absurdly pale skin and a tempting trail of hair leading down his stomach.

…He finds himself drawn to that trail.

Chris _notices_ that he’s drawn to that trail, “ _naked_.”

Which, of course, goads him into _doing_ something about it. He shuffles, it isn’t the most dignified movement but he isn’t feeling in the most dignified state at the moment so _shut up_ , down Chris’ body – undoes his belt and slides his absurdly skinny jeans over his hips and _down_. Contemplates his briefs, his cock straining within them, for a long moment before pulling those off too.

Chris actually _whimpers_ when he takes him into his mouth, “ah-“

Which, of _course_ , makes him want to prove himself to the man as quickly as possible. It’s been _years_ since he last did this, a few drunken experiments at university and one not quite boyfriend, but he supposes that it’s a bit (not at all) like riding a bike. Hollow your cheeks, take your partner as deep as you can, make full use of your tongue until that partner is practically _writhing_ under you.

…It really _is_ a bit (not so much) like riding a bike.

And so he’s a bit surprised, almost _hurt_ , when Chris drags him off his cock by his hair. Allows him to hover there, a touch grumpily, for a few moments before pulling him _right_ up and sealing their lips together.

“Ugh,” he says coherently, as he draws back.

“ _Ugh_ ,” he repeats even more coherently, as he finds himself flipped over onto his back again with Chris looking almost _wild_ on top of him.

“Want to come on the suit,” is the only, barely coherent even by _Chris’_ standards, reason given as the now naked man shifts until he’s sort of straddling his thigh and _sort of_ clinging desperately to him as not to fall off the sofa in a fairly embarrassing way, “want to come _on the suit_.”

“…Okay-“

The choked off cry that he _has_ to give when Chris grinds down against his thigh, and partially against his _cock_ , is unexpected but no less wonderful for it. He can only close his eyes, bite his lip between his teeth and try desperately not to just come apart at the sudden (glorious) pressure _immediately_.

Chris sets up a wonderful rhythm. A hard, fast, _impossible_ one – he braces his skinny arms either side of his head, adopts an expression of _pure_ focus and starts to sway. There’s no such thing as restraint in Chris’ vocabulary: immediately he’s at full pelt, his brown hair slicked to his skin whenever it touches and his eyes still _wild_.

He can only hold on. Grope vaguely until one hand is settled on Chris’ hip and one is settled on his lower back. Try to push back up into the pressure – matching thrust for thrust, roll for roll. Swallowing Chris’ whines and whimpers and _screeches_ with his mouth whenever he possibly can (for they taste so sweet, and it’d be _so_ awkward if anybody were to walk in on them now).

And Chris thrusts.

And he _answers_ : rolls his hips up in return and keeps his eyes shut and swallows a particularly _sharp_ whine before it can hit air.

And Chris _grips_ , tearing the cushion right by his cheek.

And he _responds_ : claws his fingers firmly into Chris’ hip. Scratches his other set of nails down Chris’ back until he’s digging into Chris’ arse and _marking_ Chris’ arse and making Chris whimper with _all_ of it.

And Chris clenches, helplessly lost against the suit and under his hands…

And he _pushes_ : thrusts and rolls and answers and responds and claws and scratches and _digs_ as passionately as he can. Moans and groans and gasps and _growls_. Listens to Chris’ screeches, so _perfect_ , and wishes that he could preserve them forever and- and-

Chris comes first, just barely. He follows the moment after. Shaking and sweaty and so surprisingly _blissful_ that it takes a few minutes for him to realize that he’d forgotten the feeling in the long years since the divorce (in the long years _before_ the divorce, if he’s to be completely honest since all coherency has utterly failed him).

…They rest in sticky silence for a content few minutes.

“You know,” And, when Chris finally breaks it, he sounds so _very_ smug, “I’ve completely _ruined_ your outfit.”

…He can’t quite find the energy to _mind_.


End file.
